


Tender Meat

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: All involved are above the age of consent, Consensual Gangbang, Dirty Talk, Gangbang, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Kurt is a Size Queen, M/M, Multi, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 04:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kurt’s only experience comes from hard plastic and silicone blend, but he does know what he’s in for. In theory.





	Tender Meat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this kink_meme prompt](https://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/6968.html?thread=12550200) back in 2011 and originally posted to the kurtships LJ community. Reposted here for archiving purposes.
> 
> Check out the amazing sequel, [Soft Landing by jk_rockin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/267594?view_adult=true)!

Kurt glares at the main entrance of McKinley High and drums his fingers against his iPhone. Finn's not picking up.

He doesn't really want to go in and fetch him - it's already dark and the school is mostly empty. Visiting the locker room and intruding on on the football team during their post-practice horseplay is something Kurt would rather avoid, but it seems he doesn't have a choice. Freezing cold rain pelts the hood of his car. Kurt listens to the slow beeps for another couple of minutes, then sighs and gives up. He unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out into the rain. It's not that he's afraid of going - he's not - but he doesn't like the Titans any more than the team likes him.

The parking lot is covered in ankle-deep, half-melted snow, and by the time Kurt reaches the doors he's drenched, his leather boots are in need of immediate attention and the brand new D&G's have mud up to the knees. Kurt mutters curses under his breath as he marches through the empty, darkened hallways. Finn owes him big for this.

Warm, moist, sweat-ripe air hits Kurt in the face when he pushes open the door and steps inside the locker rooms. He wrinkles his nose. Some of the boys are lounging around with only their towels on. Finn - fully dressed, thank god - is sitting on the bench, laughing and tossing a ball back and forth with Puck. From the corner of his eye, he sees Karofsky rummaging through his locker. The moment he notices Kurt on the doorway he stiffens.

Kurt decides pretending Karofsky doesn't exist is his best option. He clears his throat, squares his shoulders and lets his hip jut out. They don't scare him. "You ready to go, Finn?"

Finn grins and is about to greet Kurt, but it's Azimio who speaks first. "Aww, look who's here!" He's grinning, teeth white against his dark skin. "Nobody drop the soap!" This earns him some scattered snickering. One of the jocks makes a show of tightening the towel around his waist. Karofsky stays quiet.

Kurt flushes and hopes it doesn’t show. He doesn’t dignify Azimio with a response, and just turns his head away. Unluckily for him, he ends up looking straight at Anthony, fresh out of the showers, bare except for the towel flung onto his shoulders. And. Well. Kurt idly congratulates himself for picking an extremely fine specimen to set Mercedes up with. He wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that.

...which is probably why he’s blushing so hot it feels like his face is melting. Kurt doesn’t even bother hoping it goes unnoticed. Miracles like that just don’t happen. Not to him.

“Hey ‘Tony, might wanna put the joystick away, we’ve got company,” Azimio calls out. “Lady's about to faint.”

One of the Titans - a beefy, solidly built guy Kurt doesn’t remember seeing before - snickers. “Oh lay off, Az, let the homo have a look, gives him something to think about tonight when he’s sticking fingers up his ass.”

Anthony’s towel goes from his shoulders to around his waist in record time but he doesn’t say anything. Kurt is oddly grateful for that. The burning sensation has spread down, all the way to his chest. He wants the floor to swallow him. Karofsky is so still in his corner, so still he could pass for a statue, and Kurt hates him even more for that. He scoffs. “Please. As flattered as I am for your concern regarding my masturbatory habits, I assure you I’ve seen better.” Then he adds: “Had better.”

They all stare at him. Finn looks completely flabbergasted.

The blatant disbelief just fuels Kurt on. “So thank you for your consideration, but I severely doubt any of you possess anything worth my time.” He tries to project the air of someone utterly above it all, but they're still staring and Kurt can't help but swallow nervously. All he wants is for Finn to get up so they can leave, but it's not happening - Finn's too busy gawking at him.

"Right, you switched to that homos only place - what was it called again, the Daisy Academy? Bet they're bending you over daily." It's the brown-haired guy again. He's sneering, twisting the knot of his towel with his fingers.

"Hey! Kurt - guys - lay off! Don't talk to Kurt like that!" Finn has finally managed to recover, but it's too late, Kurt's already seeing red.

"Been thinking a lot about that, have you? Sorry, but I prefer my men with something of actual substance between their legs. You keep clutching that towel - got something to hide?" Kurt tries not to flinch when the guy takes a few strides towards him.

"Shut up, fag. I've got plenty to show - just don't want you getting any ideas."

"Believe me, there's no need to be so scared. I wouldn't touch your puny dick if you paid me." Kurt's breathing hard. He's shaking. He's become so used to Dalton - to being accepted, to the lack of slushees - he doesn't know how he quietly suffered this for so long. Fuck McKinley. "I've been a Cheerio - do you really believe the girls don't talk? If any of you were anything special, I would know. In fact, I quite clearly recall Santana complaining about that - about how I wasn't really missing anything." Kurt hopes this never gets back to Santana, because she is likely to gut him with her bare hands. He's riding high on helpless anger and adrenaline and the filter between his mouth and brain seems to have vanished. "I bet I could take you all without breaking a sweat."

Finn looks absolutely scandalized. "Kurt!"

"Big words, Hummel, big words. Got anything to back them up with?"

"Do you?"

The approving chuckles of their audience have turned into outright laughter. They're probably having a great time, getting to see the gay kid go toe to toe with one of their own. Kurt is even more resolved not to back down.

Somewhere to his left, Finn's pleading him to stop. "Kurt - let's just go, okay? It's not worth it -"

Kurt ignores him. "I'm waiting."

The guy makes a strangled sound and looks around. He's the new center of attention, everyone wants to see if he's willing to go the distance or not. Kurt watches as he visibly steels himself, glares at Kurt and then whips the towel off. He's half-hard - and isn't that an interesting turn of events? – but there's still not much to look at. Loud whistles fill the air. '

Kurt feels like he's just won. "I think I'm taking my previous statement back - that's not 'nothing special', that's just sad."

"Oh yeah? What's sad is your face when you've got this up your ass." The guy grips his cock and strokes it a few times. It fills up but from what Kurt can see, it's still not much past the five inch mark. All of Kurt's favorite toys are bigger.

"Of course I would be sad if I had to settle for something as small as that. I might even cry a little." And that's the moment he steps over the line. Kurt can feel it - the mood in the room shifting. It's not playful anymore. Well, it hasn't been playful for him from the very beginning, but now it's not only him who's got hurt pride. There's an unfamiliar team mentality at play here, and Kurt realizes the rest of the Titans are finally gearing up to give backup. Sans Finn and Puck and Sam, of course - they're caught in the middle of it, restless and looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.

Azimio takes over. "Is that so?" He stands up and flips his towel off, too, expression completely nonchalant. Kurt swallows. Azimio is considerably better hung than his teammate. "Be glad we're such gentlemen here, then - we wouldn't let down a lady, would we, guys?"

"Kurt! Okay, everyone, just calm down. Kurt - c'mon, let's go now -" Finn's starting to sound very uncomfortable. He's gotten to his feet, settled between Kurt and the rest of the team. Kurt appreciates the gesture, but he's not backing down. Never again.

Kurt shrugs off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt with shaking hands. "I expect not to be disappointed," he quips and does his best to smirk. This will not end well. He knows that, yet he's unable to stop himself. They're not going to actually do this - they're not gay. Just a little bit more and they'll stop.

It doesn't take long until Kurt's shirtless, standing there in front of dozen or so other guys, still flushed and damp from the rain. He's shivering. The locker room is anything but cold, yet his nipples are hard. He wraps his arms around his torso and glares - waits. Blood rushes in his ears.

But the Titans are not backing down at all. Kurt bites his lip and tries to get some of his bravado back. It's much easier to look down his nose at people when he's wrapped up in Alexander McQueen and Christian Dior. He swipes his hair back and puts his chin up. "Are we going to get it on or not? Who wants to go first?"

Kurt wants to be surprised but isn't when it's Puck who grins and steps forward. "I've fucked ass before," he announces, "I'll show how it's done."

Kurt feels like protesting - Puck wasn't involved, this has nothing to do with him - but then he remembers: Puck is a friend. Maybe this is a good thing. Kurt nods and walks to Puck, who produces a small jar of Vaseline from his pocket, then guides Kurt to the bench and settles him down so that he's kneeling on it. Puck's hands are warm and reassuring, and Kurt's heartbeat slows a little. Despite the situation, he is strangely excited when he hears the sound of his zipper being drawn.

Puck starts working Kurt’s pants down, slides them slow over his ass until there’s enough room for Kurt to spread his legs a little. Everyone is watching intently. Kurt’s face is hot, but he goes along with it. Soon enough all that covers his ass are his tight black Calvin Kleins. A wet spot is forming on the front, and Kurt shifts his hips, trying to hide it. It's the first time anyone's touched him like this. He doesn't want to appear too eager.

Puck turns out to be a handsy kind of guy. He runs his fingers along Kurt’s stomach, then down his back until he’s playing with Kurt’s ass - pinching, squeezing, drawing shapes. After a while he gets bored of that and goes lower, between Kurt’s legs to roll his balls. The smooth silky blend of Kurt’s underwear warms fast, and it doesn’t take long until he’s bucking against Puck’s hand. There are several crude comments at that, but he tunes them all out.

Kurt has never been sure exactly what to think of all the rumors about Puck’s sexual exploits, but when Puck finally slips Kurt’s underwear down and starts rubbing his thumb around Kurt’s hole, Kurt believes them all. Puck has obviously done this before, more than once. Kurt’s only experience comes from hard plastic and silicone blend, but he does know what he’s in for. In theory.

When Puck pushes a finger in, Kurt doesn’t have any trouble relaxing and letting him deeper - he’s familiar with the feeling, the cool smears of petroleum jelly and the intriguing fullness.

“See, guys, if you ever get to fuck a chick in the ass, you need do this first,” Puck’s explaining out loud. He’s having a blast, showing off his skills. Kurt thinks he might have been hoping for a chance to prove he’s not all talk for a while now. “It’ll be nice and tight in any case, but you’ll need to stretch them out or they’ll just bitch and whine. Like so.” He slips in another finger and twists.

Kurt is moaning before the feeling fully registers. Someone wolf-whistles, and Kurt’s face burns hotter. But damn it, he refuses to be ashamed. It feels too good for that. He's going to see this to the bitter end and do it with style. Kurt opens his eyes and glares at the whistler - a skinny guy who’s stolen his look from Grease - then very deliberately spreads his legs wider, makes an even bigger display.

Finn sees it fit to comment on that. “Dude, Kurt, you’re being kinda slutty,” he says. “Not that it’s, you know, bad, but...” He looks like he doesn’t really know how to react to any of this. Kurt can sympathize; he’s not fully convinced he isn’t in the middle of the weirdest dream ever, either, but if Finn’s planning on calling Puck off, Kurt will never forgive him. Ever. Puck is fine. If he has to put on a show for the whole team to finally get some action, so be it.

“Nah, everyone gets like that for me,” Puck says. He’s going full sex-shark now, scissoring his fingers in and out like it’s nothing special. Kurt moans again.

“Oh.” Finn thinks about it for a moment. Then: “Okay. Cool. But shouldn’t you start fucking him soon? Kurt’s about to come and when he does, he gets all lazy afterwards.”

Puck instantly pulls back.

Kurt whines. His legs tremble and he’s aching from the emptiness. “I do not," he protests. “Shut up, Finn."

Finn doesn't. “Anyone got any condoms? You’re not gonna do Kurt without one, dude.”

“What, I’m clean. Oh whatever, there’s a box in my locker, someone get me that,” Puck says, and then starts stripping down. He has an incredibly nice chest. Kurt’s mouth goes wet at the sight of the nipple rings.

“You need better lube, Vaseline doesn’t go with latex,” Kurt points out while he’s still coherent enough to do so. He can’t quite catch his breath so it comes out more gaspy than he’d wanted it to. His pants are bunched around his knees, wet and itchy and most likely ruined. Kurt tries not to think about that.

Puck shrugs. He's busied himself with the packet of Durex sensi-thins. "Okay." He raises his head and addresses the rest of the room: "Guys, lend me some KY? Don't have mine with me."

He ends up with five mostly-full tubes. Kurt wants to roll his eyes but then remembers he carried one of those around for the longest time, too, back when he was in love with Finn and eternally hopeful. Now he's here, surrounded by the football team, mostly naked and panting, about to lose his virginity to Puck while Finn stands watching right next to them. Funny how things go, sometimes.

Kurt jolts out of his thoughts when Puck throws one leg to the other side of the bench and settles behind Kurt. A hand strokes down Kurt's back, then stops to rest against his ass. Then there's the sound of plastic ripping open. He's putting the condom on, Kurt thinks, and draws in a deep breath. They're going to go through with this.

Puck must've noticed him tensing, because he gives Kurt's ass a short pat, then starts stroking his hip. "This part can be a little tricky," he says. His voice is very smooth, in-control. "Evans. Come here. Let Kurt suck on you, it'll be easier if he's got something to distract himself with."

Sam doesn't protest. He simply walks over, sits astride the bench and lets his towel drop to the floor. Kurt blushes. How many times did he hope for something like this, before Quinn, before Blaine?

"Hi, Kurt," Sam speaks to him in a low voice. "This is... sort of really weird. Are you sure you're okay with this?"

It takes Kurt way too long to reply because Sam is hard. He's actually hard. For Kurt. Wow. And also kind of waving it in Kurt's face, but that's just an added bonus. "I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't. But, thanks." Then he just stops thinking and leans forward to run his mouth along Sam's cock. He loves the faint pulsing against his lips, the saltiness, the way Sam's hands fly to Kurt's neck and hair and stay there.

The brown-haired guy murmurs something about Glee club faggots, but he's shushed quickly - by Azimio, no less. "You gonna fuck Hummel or what, Puckerman?"

"Sure am," Puck says. It sounds like he's grinning, but Kurt can't be sure. "Just savoring the view first."

Kurt thought it'd be impossible to blush any more than he already is, but he's proven wrong. He closes his eyes and focuses on licking the head of Sam's cock. He's just stretching his mouth open to take it in when he feels Puck's hands spreading him open and something pokes at his hole. The rubber slips against his skin and leaves wet, cool trails where it touches. Kurt sucks in air through his nose. He feels a little light-headed.

Puck starts pushing in. It's very slow, very controlled and very, very nice. The feeling is much the same as with a toy, but not being the one to control the pace - that's what makes all the difference. Kurt's hands are busy twisting against Sam's thighs and he moans in frustration, tries to shift his hips for more, but Puck is not relenting. He's keeping steady, hands gripping Kurt's hips, pulling back then going forward, working his cock in so carefully Kurt thinks there might actually be some gentleman in him.

It's not a compliment. Kurt is almost painfully hard and he wants more, now. He lets Sam's cock slip off his mouth. "Puckerman, if you don't stop playing around right now -"

The rest of his sentence dissolves into a gurgle, because clearly Puck has no problem granting his request. He snaps his hips forward and Kurt almost headbutts Sam's stomach. And oh, yes. This is so much better. Kurt sucks Sam down in earnest. His jaws are already starting to ache, but he doesn't really care - for once, he's glad for his big mouth. It's surprisingly easy to relax and rub the cockhead with his tongue, play around. Spit runs from the corner of Kurt's mouth, the lower half of his face is slick with it. He's hot all over, breathing hard, feels full and amazing. Wanted. Sexy. He rocks against Puck, moans around Sam's cock.

The heat builds up. Kurt's sense of time and place starts warping and there's nothing outside Puck rubbing against his prostate, the sound of panting and the slap of skin against skin. Someone's hand finds Kurt's cock and squeezes, and that's all Kurt needs. He seizes up and then he's coming, twitching and gasping, so busy riding it out his hands give out and he slumps down against the bench.

Puck's still working on him, pushing in and out. Kurt pants with his mouth open. Then Puck's pulling himself out - Kurt makes a grateful sound - and he's being turned to his back and soon he's being fucked again, this time with a great view at Puck's abs. His hand is grabbed, he doesn't pull away when it's placed on a cock and his fingers are closed around it.

Several pairs of hands start unlacing his boots and at last, his pants and underwear are pulled all the way off and dropped to the floor in a soggy pile. Kurt opens his mouth to complain - obviously they have no idea how much his pants cost - but before he can talk, there's another dick pushing against his lips and Kurt forgets all about the clothes, too busy opening his mouth and sucking it in. His nipples are being pinched - someone is licking his stomach - Kurt clenches his ass - and then Puck's coming too and the second he withdraws, the brown-haired guy is clambering to replace him between Kurt's legs. He pushes in roughly, without warning, but Kurt just closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation.

"Oh, fuck, so good," the guy groans. "God."

Kurt grins around the cock in his mouth and squeezes down on him again. To his left, Finn's saying something about playing nice and waiting, then something more about condoms. He's such an amazing brother. Kurt's growing hard again - he's sore and too sensitive but when Sam brings his head down and licks, Kurt spreads his legs and welcomes it. His eyes fall shut and he's completely overwhelmed with the attention, unable to talk with the cock in his mouth, the hands that stroke him, the hardness filling him over and over again, the taste of sperm - someone must've come on his face because it's suddenly even more wet and there's something warm dribbling down his cheek - his hair is gripped - someone's calling him a cockslut and it sounds more like a compliment than anything else.

And then it's Sam's turn to fuck him and just having Sam leaning over him, muscles taut, eyes dark, kissing Kurt's neck and then his collarbone - he's pushing in and it feels perfect, so damn perfect as he brushes against the right spot - the orgasm takes Kurt completely by surprise and he jolts, tries not to yelp. It's almost too much, coming again in such a short time. He's shaking all over, desperate to catch his breath and thankful when Finn wipes his face with a wet towel. Kurt feels like he might be passing out. His head swims. The insides of his thighs are smeared with lube and sperm.

"Good?" Finn asks.

"Yeah," Kurt answers. "Amazing."

He doesn’t pay much attention after that. He’s fucked by a nameless cute brown-haired guy, then it’s the big guy with the horrifying dreadlocks, after that he’s lifted on all fours and Anthony’s doing him from behind while he sucks Azimio’s cock down his throat. When they’re done, he rolls onto his back and the next guy - a nondescript skinny guy who is such a complete stranger Kurt didn’t even know he existed before - takes Anthony’s place. He’s one of those that's too enthusiastic to take the time to put on a condom, but Kurt is beyond caring. He’s happy just to lie back and float while the pleasure washes over him. There’s none of the usual sharpness of arousal, it’s more like a continuous thrum, like he’s been submerged and unable to single out specific sensations, part of something huge and warm.

And then there's only Karofsky left. Kurt closes his eyes. He's still spread out on the bench, lukewarm sperm running down his thighs and trickling onto the floor. The stench is overwhelming, bitter and musky.

Kurt loves it.

He's tingling all over, now only half-hard, relaxed and warm. Finn is a solid presence right next to him, sliding his hand carefully through Kurt's hair over and over again. Kurt sighs and turns his head to nuzzle against Finn's thigh. The coarse material of his jeans scratches his cheek. He spreads his legs and shifts his hips a little. Karofsky must have seen absolutely everything by now, there's nothing to be ashamed of anymore. Kurt waits.

Yet several moments pass and nothing happens. Kurt opens his eyes again. Karofsky is standing a few feet away, the look in his eyes so dark and raw Kurt can't help but shiver. He gives Karofsky a look from beneath his lashes and smiles a little. "Your turn," he says and beckons Karofsky closer. He can feel the muscles of Finn's thighs tensing, so Kurt reaches out to give Finn's knee a pat. "It's okay," he murmurs.

Kurt pulls himself up and gestures for Finn to move closer, then lays down, his back against Finn's chest. Finn's arm falls across Kurt's stomach and holds him there. Karofsky settles on the bench. He grabs Kurt's legs and arranges them so that one is stretched across his lap and the other rests against Karofsky's wide shoulders.

Karofsky strokes a hand down Kurt's thigh, all the way until his knuckles brush against Kurt's perineum, before cupping Kurt's balls in his huge palm. His skin is rough and moist as he rubs back and forth.

Kurt twitches. He tries to press up against Karofsky's hand. The rest of the team chuckles.

"Don't tease him, he's really sensitive there," Finn says. He's still hugging Kurt to his chest.

Someone laughs out loud. "Yeah, just do it, Karofsky, the Ladyboy wants more cock!"

Kurt doesn't know who said that but he agrees. He does want more cock. He wants Karofsky's cock - he can see it, hard and eager, straining against the front of Karofsky's pants. It's big.

Karofsky snaps his gaze away from Kurt's face. "Gotta get him ready for a real dick first," he jeers and suddenly there are two fingers pushing into Kurt with a moist little pop. Kurt arches his back and moans, tries to spread his legs even wider. Karofsky's knuckles are rubbing against the rim of his hole and it feels heavenly.

"You like having fingers up your ass, Hummel?"

He opens his mouth to reply, but Finn beats him to it. "Yeah, Kurt kinda loves it, he told me once." Finn smiles down at Kurt. He's moved his hand a little so that he can pluck and rub Kurt's nipples. "Right? You love being fingerfucked, don't you?"

Kurt tries to say yes - yes he does, he loves it, he's hard and panting at the thought of someone bending him over and shoving their fingers inside - but it all comes out as a long, breathy moan-gurgle because Karofsky has sped up and rams faster, deeper, until he's jabbing at Kurt's prostate and Kurt's convulsing from the pleasure, his toes curl and his mouth hangs open. "Yes," he says, over and over, because that's the only word he can think of.

The look on Karofsky's face is morphing, no longer grim but opened up by a smirk that's almost playful. The way he's touching Kurt is rough but there's no violence in it.

"Dude, make him suck your cock, I wanna see if he can take it all," Greaser says. His grin is wicked. One of the boys makes a small 'oooh' sound, and suddenly they're all scrambling closer to have a better view.

Karofsky grunts and pulls his fingers out, hastily wipes them to an abandoned towel, then leans back and spreads his legs. "Hey Hummel, get your face in here," he says, unzips his pants and pulls out an absolute treasure - almost nine inches of thick, solid meat, topped off with smooth head, drenched in precome.

Saliva floods Kurt's mouth. He doesn't need to be asked twice - he's already sliding onto the floor, uncaring of the cold tiles or the lack of Finn's warmth against his back. He wants to suck that - he wants to sit on it. All notions of being above size-queenery fly out of his head as he mouths against the crotch of Karofsky's jeans. His blood is rushing and his hole twitches involuntarily. His nose fills with the tangy, salty smell - he can taste it at the back of his mouth - and he threads his fingers through the coarse pubes to get a good grip at the base of Karofsky's cock. He can feel someone settling behind him, a hand on his ass, but he is unable to focus because he's sinking his mouth down until the heavy tip presses his tongue down and his lips are stretched tight over his teeth. He teases the small dip right beneath the head with the tip of his tongue, licks around the ridge, lets the salty precome fill his mouth, presses the smoothness against the inside of his cheek.

Someone is fingering him from behind - again - and Kurt jabs his hips backwards, annoyed. He doesn't want anything distracting him.

Karofsky's hands are in his hair, then on his cheeks, fingers pressing Kurt's earlobes flat against his skull. Karofsky's palms are even moister now, the pulse points on his wrists ticking wildly against Kurt's skin.

There are hands on Kurt's hips - his ass is grabbed and lifted up, spread open - and soon after he's being penetrated, pushed forward, and Karofsky's cock slides further into his mouth. His jaw is stretched wide and his legs are shaking - he feels so incredibly full, plugged from both ends, rocked slowly by each thrust.

“Fuck," Karofsky breathes. His fingers thread into Kurt’s hair and grip his scalp.

A shiver runs through Kurt. He’s been achingly hard for some time now, but no one has touched his cock. But it’s okay, he wouldn’t be able to take it anyway - he’s on the brink of unraveling as it is.

He tries to get Karofsky in deeper but his jaws ache and spit runs down his hot face. He keeps his eyes shut tight. He doesn’t want to remember it’s Karofsky who’s seeing him like this, messy and wet and sperm-stained, but at the same time it’s all he can think of, how he’s able to get Karofsky’s entire body quivering, how he could just back off, walk away and leave Karofsky hanging, force him to jack off by himself, huge fist closed around his cock, legs spread, up and down, slick with Kurt’s spit -

Kurt moans out loud. He’s so close. His hips are on fire and he’s pushing backwards in sync with the thrusting - he needs more, now, harder -

And suddenly there are hands on his shoulders and Karofsky’s pulling Kurt up, off his dick. “I want to fuck you,” he says. His face is flushed and sweaty and focused entirely on Kurt.

The person who’d been fucking him - it’s Puck, Kurt can see now, and why does Puck wanting a second go make him feel so smug? - backs off and lets Kurt get up. More sperm slides down Kurt’s thighs but he doesn’t care. “Then do it.”

He nods at Finn who tosses Karofsky a condom. Kurt wonders how many of them are left at this point, he’s lost count after the fourth one. He watches as Karofsky rolls it onto his cock - and whoa, does that get Kurt’s spine tingling - while wondering how they’re going to do this.

He doesn’t want to be face-to-face. It’s too intimate and suggests things that are completely out of place here. But he won’t be on his knees for Karofsky, either - not more than he already has. He comes to a decision.

“Stay put,” he snaps at Karofsky, who’d been about to move. Kurt climbs onto the bench - Karofsky’s hands automatically reach for his hips - then settles down so that he’s sitting on Karofsky’s lap, his back resting against the cheap cotton that covers Karofsky’s chest. The firm cockhead rubs up against Kurt’s ass. It slides easily against his skin, but Kurt doesn’t want to risk it. “Finn. Lube.”

Karofsky’s hot breath puffs against the back of Kurt’s neck. His chest is heaving. Two hard nubs poke at Kurt and he instantly presses back against them. Karofsky lets out a small gasp. Kurt smiles.

He reaches out a hand so that Finn can pour some of the lube on his palm, but to his surprise, it’s pushed away and instead, Finn scoots closer. “I want to make sure myself,” he says, his mouth quirked in that adorable way of his. “You won’t mind?”

Karofsky shakes his head. “Go ahead.”

Kurt gives them both a wide-eyed look. He feels Finn’s hand sliding down his back, drips of cool liquid against the small of his back, then fingers poking at his ass until Finn’s able to grip Karofsky’s cock and palm it roughly. The lube smears everywhere - Kurt is certain the front of Karofsky’s jeans is a disaster.

Lubing a condom doesn’t take long, but Finn is determined to do a good job. He’s rubbing his hand up and down, sometimes even sliding a finger into Kurt and pressing against the ring of muscle. It drives Kurt crazy. “God, Finn, stop that,” he moans. “I need...” He trails off, because what he needs is Karofsky’s cock inside him.

He lifts one leg, gets a little distance between his ass and Karofsky’s crotch so there’s more room for guiding Karofsky’s cock in. His hands get slapped away again, so he just leans forward, balances his hands on Karofsky’s knees and waits while Finn gets everything in position. Kurt relaxes and is about to start working it in when Karofsky makes a sudden sound of frustration, grabs Kurt’s leg and manages to jostle him off-balance.

Kurt yelps, leans back and gasps - Karofsky’s cock slides fully inside, rubs and burns, fills him to the brim. It’s like sitting on a damn telephone pole. Behind him, Karofsky is whimpering out curses, his hands so tight on Kurt’s hips they’re trembling. “Oh, fuck, sorry -,” Karofsky starts, then gives up and just rests his forehead against Kurt’s shoulder and draws in several ragged breaths.

Oh, fuck, indeed, Kurt thinks. His whole lower body is throbbing and he knows if he moves an inch, no amount of squeezing or pinching can stop him from coming. There’s no word to describe the incredible sense of fullness - the feeling of being grounded in place. Karofsky’s fingers dig against his hipbones, force him down and ensure he stays there.

“Kurt? You alright?” Finn asks. He’s leaning in closer, brow furrowed. “Does it hurt?”

Kurt has to take a moment to steady his breathing before he’s able to reply. “No, Finn, I’m - I’m fine. It feels good." So good he still can’t risk moving. Thankfully Karofsky is taking his time getting used to the feeling, too - Kurt can feel how his cock is pulsating. He wants to squeeze down on it.

Finn beams. “Oh, great! It’s kinda big so I thought you’d need to, y’know, take it slow,” he says, then gives Karofsky an approving look. “I think Kurt really likes your cock,” Finn tells him. “See how his skin is breaking out in those red splotches? It does that only when he’s really close.”

Karofsky’s reply is an unintelligible grunt. He’s still so obviously overwhelmed Kurt can’t help but feel superior. “Having some trouble, Karofsky?” he says in his snottiest voice. The short conversation with Finn has pulled him far enough from the edge that he’s able to grind his hips down. But only once.

“Fuck you, Hummel,” Karofsky says. His breathing is labored and he’s gritting his teeth. Kurt is surprised he isn’t growling.

He ignores Finn’s disapproving look. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come already. Everyone else did so well.” And here he gives them all a smile. They all grin back, and Kurt feels like the king of the goddamn world. It’s a weird feeling - having so much power. He shifts his hips again. He almost wishes Karofsky will come from that, wants to see him humiliated in front of everybody. Almost. “Do you need me to get off and fetch you a cock ring?”

This time Karofsky does growl.

Kurt wants to keep goading him on, wants to prod and provoke. The mix of adrenaline and sheer arousal has his head spinning. He can tell Karofsky’s close to snapping, and Kurt wants to be right there - riding his cock - when he does. He wants to feel all that tension unleashed. It won‘t take much more.

“You -” Kurt’s mouth is still open, in the middle of forming the rest of the sentence, when all of Karofsky’s muscles suddenly tighten and he takes a single deep breath that shudders through his entire body. Then he’s ramming up into Kurt and Kurt forgets what words are.

He’s being split open. Every time Karofsky forces his cock in, a spark zaps along Kurt’s spine and leaves the back of his neck so oversensitive Karofsky’s hot breath burns. The fine hairs on his forearms are standing up and his sides tingle. His vision swims in a rush of white spots.

Karofsky’s arms are locked around him and Kurt is unable to move, unable to do anything but stay put and be fucked. It’s exactly as he hoped it would be - no. Better. Everything is building up, his body is tightening and trembling, all he can focus on his the feeling of Karofsky’s cock rubbing and sliding inside him - the friction, the heat, the jolts - and Kurt’s mouth hangs open once again, strings of drool escape from the corner of his mouth - Finn’s fingers are there, wiping it off, then they’re on Kurt’s cock, the rough tip of a finger drawing along the edge of his glans -

Kurt comes so hard he blacks out.

When he’s able to process things again he’s laying on the bench, his head on Finn’s lap, his legs up against Karofsky’s shoulders. Karofsky is still fucking him but the only thing Kurt can feel of his lower body is a strong prickling sensation - relaxing, smooth and warm. His legs are still twitching. God. His stomach is wet with sperm. Finn hands are idly petting him, smoothing down the sweaty strands of hair.

Kurt watches through half-lidded eyes, lulled by the rhythmic slide of powerful thrusts, as Karofsky grabs at his hips, his thighs, hips again - then makes a quiet moan-grunt and finally slows down. His face is now completely red and the veins on both his neck and hands are standing out. He’s panting, clearly exhausted, but instead of lying down on top of Kurt, he draws back, slumps into himself and closes his eyes. He looks like he’s dozing off. Kurt wants to do the same. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his head against Finn’s stomach.

And just like that, the spell is broken. The other boys start trickling off - no-one speaks, but it’s obvious whatever kept them here, allowed them to do this, is now gone. Even as he’s falling asleep, Kurt thinks it’s all oddly subdued - he’d expected something boisterous, celebration, anything - but there’s just a mostly-empty locker room filled with the smell of sweat and sex and unwashed socks.

Kurt takes a deep breath. He has no idea what will come next, but he can deal with that later.

He lets himself drift.


End file.
